


The Calm After the Storm

by Katzenjammers



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Bath Sex, Established Relationship, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Role Reversal, SOFT GAYS, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Fingering, burnout is a thing for undead too, marking/biting, what if we kissed in trueshot lodge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29943009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzenjammers/pseuds/Katzenjammers
Summary: Representing the Dark Rangers in the Unseen Path is an honor. So why does Velonara feel like she's being punished?And the wintering months of Trueshot Lodge are dark and lonely, even for an undead ranger.
Relationships: Dark Ranger Velonara/Sylvanas Windrunner
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	The Calm After the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I've had very little in motivation lately, but I thought if I at least contributed a little something that's been sitting in my docs, it might be the kickstart I need to write more. Did anyone want this? Probably not. Is it self indulgent? Absolutely. 
> 
> Nethertheless, I hope you enjoy!

Velonara was stressed. 

And no, she wasn’t facing down countless demons on the broken shore and _no_ she wasn’t on the run from the wrath of those that believed the freed undead had no place in sharing this world. She was, in fact, safe at her desk, stripped of her armor and chipping away at the ever growing pile of correspondence that was stacked in a haphazard pile.

And _that_ was the stressful part. Paperwork. Dreaded, awful, accused paperwork. Her hands, which were more scar tissue than skin at this point, were made for flensing arrows, or gutting prey. Whether that prey be demon or beast mattered little; the point was, the delicate art of penmanship was not something she took to easily, both in life and in undeath. Velonara wouldn’t call herself dull minded; she was quick on her feet, sharp witted, deadly and precise on the battlefield. She could track the movements of a springpaw just from the way dew was disturbed on blades of grass, could predict what way her opponent would feint before he’d even made the decision himself. Words, however, were something that eluded her. A formidable art in themselves, words could cause discourse, rally troops… fell empires. Sylvanas was good with them, always had been- noble blood and all, and she’d always known just how much or how little to say. 

It was the reason the Forsaken stood strong, it was the reason the Horde had made her it's damn _Warchief._

She wasn’t bitter about that fact… maybe a little, perhaps a lot. But… sharing Sylvanas with the Forsaken had been hard enough, sharing her with the entirety of the Horde felt damn near impossible. 

The last time she’d seen her had been several months ago, and even that interaction had been rushed- a parchment of instructions thrust into her hands, hasty words of farewell followed with a chaste kiss to her lips that Velonara lamented she’d shrugged off. She’d been so angry back then, jaw tense and sulking, and it had only been in hindsight that she’d noted the way Sylvanas leaned into her, gloved fingers tightening on the hood of her cloak in a white knuckled grip with one hand while she’d tenderly eased Velonara’s tightly pinned ears through the slits in the fabric with the other. 

Sylvanas had known it would be a while until they’d meet again and Velonara wished she’d picked up on that before. She felt the fool for being too stubborn to kiss back. 

So here she was, stressed, anxious, and well… lonely. 

Trueshot Lodge was ‘wintering’ as many of its regulars put it. Here in Highmountain, the darker months often proved to be too challenging for many of its living inhabitants and thus the vast majority of the Unseen Path would opt out of making a permanent residence here until the bitter winds would quieten and the first green shoots poked their way through the melting snow. Save for a couple of Highmountain Tauren regulars, thick-furred and adapted to their native climate, and a particularly stubborn Dwarven trapper, beard encrusted with ice and ruddy cheeked, she was alone up here.

That suited her just fine; but sometimes the winds would howl a little too loud, the timbers of the lodge groaning in protest, and she’d find the habitual vestiges of her living self craving the comforts of another body to curl up next to.

Old habits died hard, Elven habits died harder. 

Her pen slipped and she hissed as the parchment became splattered with ink. _Belore_ help her, she was useless at this, and of all the people Sylvanas could have sent-

Velonara’s jaw tightened as she subconsciously straightened in her chair. 

No. This was a privilege, nay a downright _honor_ to be representing the Dark Rangers on Sylvanas’s behalf as one of the core organizations in the hunter order. She had to do her Dark Lady right, she had to assure both herself and others that she deserved this role as one earned rather than given through sentiment. She absolutely should not be floundering for words and sending away these ink-stained letters and haphazard scrawl that looked like it belonged to an _orcish child_ -

Velonara growled, a low rumbling sound that started in her chest and hissed through clenched teeth. 

Ember eyes shifted to the doorway of her office, then toward her simple hunting bow leaning in the corner, still strung and begging to be used. She stared down at her ink-blotched fingers with a scowl of distaste before her traitorous gaze landed once again on the bow. The winds shrieked, the shutter to a window slammed a disjointed rhythm- the tick of the clock on the wall seemed to grow ever louder until it was a deafening roar echoing around her skull. 

_“Bandal!”_ She spat and the chair jerked back with a violent screech against the wooden floorboards as she leapt to her feet. It was only her eagerness to grab her bow and head outside that refrained her from swiping the messy stacks of parchment off her desk as her boots hit the decking with a determined stride. 

She needed to get out and hunt, needed to clear her head from the turmoil of thoughts worming their way through her brain until she was driven mad from her loneliness and self doubt. And so, with naught but a slightly guilty glance at the abandoned desk behind her, she headed out into the snow, hoping she could banish the worries from her mind with the simple old-fashioned thrill of a chase. 

* * *

She ended up spending hours, reasoned that it was because the heavy snow slowed her steps, that the strange light of dusk had her vision confused, causing her to miss the buck first time, resulting in a long slog up the mountain, following the trail of crimson splatters where the flint of the arrow had nicked his hide. The truth was, she could have ended his life the moment he’d raised his antlered head in alarm. Back in her ranger days, Sylvanas would have scolded Velonara for prolonging a chase like this, told her to respect her prey and ended his life cleanly, efficiently. But now, things had changed; she wondered if Sylvanas, in all her stress of shouldering the mantle of Warchief, had ever done the same, drawn out the hunt knowing that the kill always concluded that momentary fantasy of being but a simple ranger- free of duty, free of pain. 

So she’d continued to stalk the poor buck, pushed him up the steep and treacherous rocks until he’d folded his legs under him in exhausted defeat and she’d calmly crouched beside him, placing a hand on a quivering flank almost in apology as she’d sliced at his throat. The freshly spilled blood steamed in the frigid air and she decided her repentance at performing such a sloppy kill was the slow going trek back down the mountain with the weight of her catch slung over her shoulders. 

And even that seemed to fly by all too soon. 

The smoking chimney of the cabin came into view and her ears wilted, only to perk up with the realization she could waste some more time dressing and skinning her kill, the stable rafters were perfect for hanging him up and the methodical task would keep her occupied a little while longer before she’d have to yet again face the empty cabin and its-

-Velonara froze, ears flicking in response to the sensation of being watched. 

A low growl rumbled in her chest, lips pulled back over fangs as she shrugged the deer off her shoulders, hitting the frozen ground with a dull thud. Her fingers had barely twitched toward the bow slung across her back when something leapt in her direction. 

If she could have been winded, she would have been gasping for air with the force in which it struck at her chest, sending her careening down the hill in tangle of limbs as she grabbed ahold of her attacker and pulled them down with her. 

For a moment both figures flailed in the snow as they finally came to a rest in their frantic tumbling and Velonara was the first to recover as she reached for the knife in her boot, only for a hand to shoot out and snatch ahold of her wrist, twisting her arm above her head in a vice-like grip. She snarled in outrage, and went to shove her knee in their gut when the hooded figure pinning her started laughing. 

At that familiar sound her eyes widened, before she immediately relaxed with a scowl on her face. 

“ _Belore_ Sylvanas do you wish upon me a true death.” 

More laughter. “Quite the opposite, my dear, hence why I aim to keep you on your feet.” Red eyes sparkled with mischief. “Or in this case… on your back. You’ve grown complacent out here, it was all too easy to catch you off guard.” 

“You’re the one who sent me.” Velonara huffed, brushing the snow off her leathers as she shoved at Sylvanas and rolled away, ignoring the hand that was offered to her as she made to get back up. 

“Are you still upset about that?” 

Velonara resisted rolling her eyes and said nothing, moving over to the deer and sighing forlornly at the snow-soaked fur. 

“Now you’ve ruined my kill.” 

“I think you’ve already done that yourself.” Sylvanas glanced pointedly at the telltale arrow still embedded in the flank. “I sure hope you weren’t planning on selling that pelt with a scar like that, I thought you were here to represent us, not marr our order with sloppy kills and shirking your duties.” 

“I wasn’t _shirking_ anything and _Belore_ forbid that a member of the Hunter Order wanted to do a little _hunting.”_ Velonara went to grab at the shaggy scruff of the stag’s neck to lift him back up but Sylvanas put a gentle hand on her arm, offering the warmest smile Velonara had seen in well… all too long. She could have sworn her undead heart twitched in her chest. 

“I’m only teasing.” Sylvanas hoisted the large buck up over her own shoulders and gestured to her companion. “He’s a fine looking beast, where do you want him hung?” 

* * *

Velonara didn’t know why Sylvanas was here, but she had never felt more ecstatic to hear the crunch of snow under two sets of boots as the Warchief followed her toward the stables. She’d never been more overjoyed to hoist up the stag and have Sylvanas dutifully assist her in brushing the pelt free of snow while Velonara quickly set to work. Her general was good like that; despite having decades more experience, she was never one to shoulder her way in or be repressive in handling another’s kill. Sylvanas was simply content to wordlessly stand back and assist, even if Velonara’s knife slipped a couple of times or she’d made the initial cuts too shallow.

Velonara had tried questioning Sylvanas, only to get out short sentences and dismissive explanations regarding the frontline of the war with the Legion. She quickly got the message that her Warchief was in no mood to talk, so instead found herself describing the daily life at Trueshot Lodge. She talked about the trials and politics of the Unseen Path- of her surprise at the easy going nature of the Highmountain hunter clans who, despite their dedication to the cycle of life, were so very welcoming to her. She even told her about the orc who’d wrestled with a bear and won, and of the insane dwarf who’d stepped in his own trap, only to simply exclaim “not again!” as though his blunder was a regular occurrence. 

Sylvanas drank in her stories like they were epic tales of battle, eyes eager and alight, but there was a distracted air to her, a restlessness that Velonara didn’t understand until they both crossed the threshold of the cabin and she’d found her back pressed against the door, lips claimed in a hungry kiss. 

“Sylvanas.” Velonara mumbled in protest even as her ears wilted in pleasure. Despite there being so few still residing in the lodge, she was terrified of some unsuspecting soul walking in and catching them. The Warchief simply ignored her, tearing her lips away only to reattach them at Velonara’s jaw, then her neck, then at the juncture between tendon and shoulder, where fangs pricked at the familiar marked scar that Velonara wore proudly, and fondly traced whenever her thoughts grew somber and lonely. 

“Sylvanas.” Velonara tried again only to get a snarl in response as those fangs bit down. A sharp bloom of pain-pleasure crackled through Velonara’s undead nerves and she couldn’t help but tangle her fingers into soft, pale locks as though holding Sylvanas’s head in place. She needn’t have worried, her lover had no intent in releasing that clamping bite any time soon. Hips pushed against hers, Velonara failed to stifle the groan at the contact, earning the vibration of a possessive rumbling growl from Sylvanas as hands grasped at her sides, pulling her impossibly closer.

“I’m yours.” Velonara reassured, recognizing the frenzied energy in Sylvanas’s actions. “I’m always yours, but right now we are both covered in deer blood and potentially about to give a couple of Tauren marksmen the fright of their life should they choose to return from their trip.” 

The pressure of that marking bite released and Sylvanas reluctantly pulled back, eyes scanning her work with some satisfaction before Velonara shivered at the soft swipe of a wet tongue as she licked away the trickle of spilled ichor from where fangs had broken skin. 

“I’m sorry.” Cool breath tingled across where her skin was still damp from that lick. “I’ve missed you.” 

“And I you…” Velonara’s voice shuddered in emotion as she willed herself to pull back. “But I have much better places for us to… reconcile than in the main hallway of a communal cabin.” 

Sylvanas’s eyes lit up with poorly restrained glee. “Why _Ranger Captain_ , are you offering to take me to your bedroom?” 

Velonara huffed out a dry laugh, “I was suggesting more of a bath,” she gestured between the two of them, humored by Sylvanas’s playful reaction. She wondered if as many people would want the Warchief’s head if they knew how damn _adorable_ she looked when she pouted. “But after… well yes I’m sure I could fit a tour in my _ever_ so busy schedule.” 

* * *

  
  


“I’m tired.” Sylvanas’s words came out in a wearied huff. 

Velonara understood that she didn’t mean physical exhaustion in the slightest. She was perhaps one of the few, if not the _only_ person who knew that Sylvanas _hated_ being Warchief. That didn’t mean that she wasn’t unimaginably _proud_ of her for embracing such a heavy burden, a burden she absolutely did not need added to the titanic weight already set across those broad shoulders of hers. Shoulders she was currently massaging as Sylvanas settled against her, head leaning against her chest as Velonara held her in an intimate embrace in the tub. 

“I know.” Velonara soothed, mouth twisting into a sympathetic frown as Sylvanas’s ears lowered to the point that they almost dipped in the water. “How long do you have here before you need to go back? 

“Just by coming here it has already been too long.” Sylvanas sighed again, an empty hollow sound that rattled in her chest. Velonara simply kissed her temple and shifted from massaging her shoulders to pulling her tighter against her. “I’m not sure why I came here, the Horde needs-” 

“One night.” Velonara stated firmly, interrupting Sylvanas’s moment of rising panic. “You can stay here for the night, then I’ll give you back.” 

Those forlorn ears perked a little. “Give me back?” Sylvanas shifted to look behind her only for Velonara to tut and tighten her grip so that she stayed in place. 

“Yes. Give you back, you made the mistake of coming here, you’re mine now until I let you go.” Sylvanas couldn’t see it but it didn’t stop Velonara from jutting out her chin with a haughty expression on her face. 

A low chuckle. “If my lady insists.” 

Velonara couldn’t blush but it didn’t stop her lips from quirking into a shy smile. “I like it when you call me that.” 

“That is what you are, is it not?” 

Velonara’s smile faded, hating that her traitorous, insecure thoughts taunted her with the knowledge that all too soon the Horde would snatch her back with its greedy claws- but _Belore_ damn her, she wouldn’t relinquish _her_ Sylvanas without a fight. 

“And you are mine.” Velonara’s voice rumbled on the edge of a warning growl, as if daring the Warchief to protest. Sensing her Captain’s unease, Sylvanas’s expression softened and she twisted round to place a beseeching hand against her lover’s jaw, her touch warm and damp from the bath. 

“Of course, I always will be.” 

For a moment there was silence, just the creak of the timbers from the relentless wind outside and the soft crackling of logs from the simmering hearth. Lazy tendrils of steam rose around them and Velonara shut her eyes to slowly nuzzle Sylvanas’s ear, lips pressing against the damp strands of hair that were tucked behind it. 

“I’ve really missed you _dalah’surfal,_ let's for a moment forget your duty to the Horde and my duties here and _pretend._ Pretend we are but two simple rangers, living out our retirement in a remote cabin, surrounded by nothing but the wilderness and judged by nothing but the silent trees.” 

Sylvanas let out a contented hum and trembled at the touch of Velonara’s fingers trailing across the outside of her thigh. “Would we have pet lynxes?” She asked, her voice so heartbreakingly innocent that Velonra couldn’t help but gather Sylvanas more fully against her and press a series of indulgent kisses to the crown of her head. 

“All of the lynxes, too many. I’d keep telling you that we’d have enough but you’d convince me otherwise, bringing yet another pitiful rescue to the door. They’d scratch up the curtains and chew on the carpet but neither of us would really mind.” 

Sylvanas made a small noise of amusement and shifted her ear so she could better listen to the thrum of dark energy within the Ranger Captain’s chest. It wasn’t quite a heartbeat but it was close enough… and blessedly unique, something that belonged to her lover alone. 

“And maybe a couple horses,” Velonara continued, her fingers trailing higher and her lips curling into a small, pleased smirk when one of Sylvanas’s legs fell open to allow her better access. “Retired from active combat, just like us- a little scratched up and scrawny but no less beautiful. They’d graze in the paddock all day long and grow fat from all the spring clover, but they’d still pick up the pace when we’d race them through the forest.” 

“You miss that don’t you?” Sylvanas sighed, watching transfixed as Velonara traced idle patterns across the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “To sit astride a living creature, to feel that connection as one. You always rode so well…” 

“I still can. And maybe if you’re good I’ll show you.” Velonara teased, pressing her lips to the tattered ridge of an ear, her voice both sultry and lighthearted as she expertly guided Sylvanas’s mind back to the present in a way only she knew how. “Be with me, General.” She husked, raw and quiet enough that Sylvanas could almost forget the duel-toned echo. Almost. “Let your simple ranger take care of you.” 

Sylvanas gasped then, as Velonara’s fingers found her, parted her. She tossed her head and arched her back, feeling a sense of thrill as her movements were inhibited by the tight hold Velonara had around her shoulders. A series of praises were mumbled against her ear, lips barely brushing the sensitive cartilage as fingers gently slid over Sylvanas’s entrance, pushing one finger in, testing, then another. Slow, yet the movement was firm, as though her ranger wished for Sylvanas to acknowledge the intrusion, to draw out the sensation of being filled after so long. A wave of vertigo, both crushing and heady at once, enveloped the Warchief as her eyes rolled back a little in her skull, ears lax and lips parted as her jaw hung open in an expression of bliss that none other than Velonara would ever witness. 

_“Belore_ you feel good.” Velonara groaned, stroking those fingers in a slow, indulgent thrust as Sylvanas subtly flexed her hips. “They spout such… heinous things about you, but the true crime was in you sending me away.” 

“A crime I’m more than being punished for.” Sylvanas managed, her voice thin, on the edge of a desperate whine. “Every day without you by my side has felt so… incredibly lonely.” 

Velonara couldn’t hold back, with a groan she surged forward, twisting her fingers in Sylvanas’s hair and pulling her head back so she could place her parted lips against the juncture between shoulder and throat. Her fangs pricked at the familiar scar, aligning with practiced precision, yet she paused- she always paused, waiting for that aroused hitch of breath, for the barely perceivable nod as Sylvanas gave her consent. 

“Please.” Sylvanas breathed and Velonara’s jaw clamped down with a rumbling growl as the gentle thrusting of her fingers became rougher, deeper. 

Sylvanas jerked again, the sting of Velonara’s bite mixed with the pleasure of her hand overwhelming in the best of ways as she reached behind her to hold her lover’s head in place, grounding herself with a twist of her fingers, tugging on soaked tresses of hair. For a moment she closed her eyes and imagined the dampness was not from the bath but from their sweat, how they used to hold one another, skin glistening and hair stuck to their temples as they panted as one, satisfied and exhausted, the sheets a ruined mess tangled around intertwined bodies. 

Velonara was right, she could almost imagine them being two retired rangers, making love in their humble cabin, listening to naught but the pulse of the forest around them. 

Free of duty. 

Free of pain. 

So she couldn’t stop the confused, disappointed noise when those sinful fingers suddenly slipped free, the body wrapped around her disentangling itself and leaving her woefully devoid of contact. Sylvanas found herself awkwardly twisting to look over her shoulder, jostling the bathwater so that it spilled over the sides, soaking the floor below, suddenly unable to bear the thought of her lover leaving her sight. 

Sensing her distress, Velonara’s voice was a low croon as she quickly returned, lips brushing against her ear, soothing and apologetic. “Stay right here my love, I’ll be just a moment.” Sylvanas lamented those words as Velonara pulled away before her ears perked in pleasant surprise to the rattle of buckles as her ranger clumsily reached for the harness with one arm, stiffly maneuvering herself to fasten it around her hips. Sylvanas closed her eyes, though not because she didn’t enjoy the sight of Velonara fumbling with the strap, unused to being the one wearing it- because it was hot, a little humorous but far more arousing than it had any right to be. Still, she kept them shut because the last thing she wanted was Velonara feeling any form of self consciousness, her captain wished to try something new and Sylvanas would sooner give up _Deathwhisper_ than wish to deny her lover of this. She realized with a foreign, trembling warmth in her belly that Velonara didn’t just keep something like this within arms reach of the tub.

_She’d prepared this for me_. Her breath left in a shuddering sigh of realization as the younger dark ranger settled back over her, lips pressing over the place where her fangs had left dark bruises, contrasting her pale skin, determined to banish her moment of absence with soothing kisses and bath-warmed hands stroking over her skin. 

Of course, like any standard reaction she had to positive emotion, a joke bubbled from her lips, a reflex as eyes darted down to the new addition between her legs beneath the water. “Why _ranger_ , was this also part of your innocent, pastoral fantasy?” 

Velonara relaxed lifted her mouth away before shrugging, the movement jostled Sylvanas, disturbing the water in a series of ripples and distorting the sight. 

Velonara returned to nuzzling at her jaw, redirecting her gaze from between her legs to again focus on her.“Still part of the fantasy, just with an extra added… spice.”

“Fuck.” Was all Sylvanas had to say about that, and earned a low chuckle in response. 

Velonara never felt more powerful than in moments like these- where her larger than life, formidable, ruthless Warchief was slumped against her, the tendons in her neck flexing as she fought back a low whine, the water sloshing as her knee shifted to further spread her legs as far apart as she could. 

“That’s my girl.” The ranger captain crooned and Sylvanas let out a strangled whimper.

Moments like these were few and far in between, but the rare occasion that Sylvanas allowed Velonara to take the reins was not a challenge the younger dark ranger would ever back down from. Sylvanas needed this, this moment of indulgence- to allow herself to be held and cherished, for once to be the one where decisions were made _for_ her, by someone, _the only one,_ whom she could trust.

Velonara breathed out, pressing gentle kisses against Sylvanas’s jaw at the same time one hand curled over the edge of the tub, supporting herself. She trailed them lower, ears pressed out the way, cool breath ghosting over the hardened nipple of her lover’s breast before lips wrapped around it in a rhythmic gentle sucking. Sylvanas wasn’t one to make much noise in lovemaking, but the little whimpers, the unsteady hitch of breath, the way one hand dropped to the back of her head, encouraging- it meant more to Velonara than had she screamed out her name. 

“Good girl.” Velonara’s pulled back just enough to voice her devotion, a weary pilgrim kneeling before the shrine of their god. Sylvanas jerked at the familiar touch of calloused hands - teasing, exploring. Tracing the lines of her muscles, her scars, ghosting over too-prominent ribs and thumbing over the rise of sharp hip bones, treating her body as though it were somehow still soft and living, still beautiful. Velonara’s name caught in her throat as her eyes closed and her mouth hung open, drunk on both pleasure and frustration as Velonara continued her indulgent exploration of her body, the only time she would ever be touched without an intent to harm. Again, Velonara’s hand caught the lip of the tub to keep herself steady, grip tightening as she guided Sylvanas’s hips closer with the other.

_“My_ good girl.” A shudder. And then the press of something hard, but very welcome against her inner thigh, frustratingly close to where she truly wanted it. 

“Vel-” 

“Easy, easy.” The young ranger captain’s voice was a sultry croon, ember eyes dimed and half lidded as she nosed her way over the smooth expanse of skin, pressing her lips against Sylvanas’s shoulder. “I’ll get you there, I promise.” 

“I can’t, no more.” Sylvanas let out an actual _whine_ as she bucked her hips, desperate for the contact and Velonara swore there and then that she’d die a true death before letting anyone intrude on this moment. “I need-” 

“What you need is what I will give you.” Velonara’s voice was calm, firm- every bit the unflinching authority Sylvanas so desperately craved in these times, behind closed doors when it was Velonara, and Velonara alone. When she wasn’t a General, or a Warchief or a Queen- but a trembling, desperate elf in need of her mate. 

Losing her patience, Velonara was quick to grab hold of Sylvanas, fingers digging into the curve of her ass, leveraging her body so that it allowed Velonara to shuffle forward, her smaller frame settling on top of Sylvanas’s taller, broader one. Though in that moment the ranger captain felt anything but small with the way Sylvanas stared up at her with a slightly lost expression, one of hopeful anticipation and far more vulnerability that anyone else would ever see from the Banshee Queen. The movement was perhaps not the most graceful, limbs slipped against the smooth surface of the bath, more soapy water spilled over the side, but it was perhaps a feat only achievable by two as lithe as they, sinuously twisting their positions before entwining again, lips meeting in a passionate kiss. There was nothing soft about it, it was hungry, desperate, teeth clashing once or twice though neither had the patience to care. 

Only when Sylvanas eventually relaxed against her, fully submitting, did Velonara allow the toy to press forward, aligning their pelvises and teasing just a few inches, enough that Sylvanas’s lips curled over her fangs in a hiss of pleasure and frustration. 

“You think you can just send me away?” Velonara growled, breath laboured despite having no need for oxygen; the coiling and twitching of muscles, the sinuous roll of Sylvanas’s hips as the Warchief and tried and failed to find relief was enough to leave her light-headed anyway. “But look at you, so desperate, so needy for me. Was it me you were punishing, or yourself?” 

“I didn’t send you away as p-punishment, I-” Velonara’s eyes flared in satisfaction at that stumble of words. Sylvanas _never_ stuttered, but her ranger captain wasn’t playing fair, finally _finally_ pushing inside mid-sentence. It earned her a low, guttural moan that was sweeter to Velonara’s ears than any ballard or poetry. 

“Are you sure?” Velonara’s voice was steady and commanding despite the turmoil of emotions roiling in her chest, red eyes widening at the prospect that she might be crossing a very dangerous line. Yet the words tumbled out of her, steeped in hurt and accusation even as a quieter, sane part of her cried out for her to stay silent, to allow Sylvanas this rare moment of pleasure without tainting it with her own weak insecurity. “Because _Belore_ be damned, it certainly feels like one.” 

“Vel-” Sylvanas tried again but the unrelenting thrusts, steady yet firm, had her writhing and speechless, unable to spit out an explanation as the tendons in her throat flexed. 

“That’s right.” The power was going to Velonara’s head but for once she let it; hurt and anger and _love_ coursing through her body, making her feel raw, and so very alive. “Say my name, cry out to these empty, lonely mountains who exactly is the one who can make you feel this way, the _only_ person whom you allow yourself to be beneath, begging for my _cock_ like some common temple whore _.”_

Sylvanas lurched forward, fangs snapping inches from Velonara’s face in warning but the glassy look in her crimson eyes, the way her ears hung lax as a wanton moan escaped from the back of her throat betrayed any real threat at Velonara’s taunting words and the ranger captain knew it, smirking at Sylvanas’s outrage. 

“Do I feel good Warchief?” Velonara snapped her hips and felt the body underneath her shudder in confirmation, felt desperate hands scramble for purchase against damp, slippery skin. “You certainly do, like Valhalla, like ecstasy, as though I were dipped in the Sunwell, anointed by it.”

“Why speak of a paradise lost.” Sylvanas groaned, the ember flicker of her gaze winking out as she closed her eyes in bliss. 

“Because it pales in comparison to what I have now. How could I want for anything when I have my Warchief beneath me.” 

“Not your Warchief.”

Velonara’s expression softened a touch and bow calloused fingers traced over the hardened lines of muscle, skimming across the delicate curve of her waist, nudging the body beneath her in place for a better angle. The gentleness of her handling contrasted the forceful thrusts and had Sylvanas whimpering louder than if Velonara had twisted a hand in her hair and roughly fucked her from behind, though both scenarios would have been more than welcome; it seemed Sylvanas was more than willing to dance to whatever tune her Captain played, and it left Velonara dizzy with power.

“My ranger then, my simple, handsome archer, wooing me with acrobatics and military charm.”

“A display of combat.” Sylvanas amended with a reprimanding nip, the prick of fangs against her jugular.

“My dear it was but a dance with knives, enthralling the masses in Farstriders square.” 

“And yet it was a successful recruitment drive was it not?” Sylvanas pulled back to regard her lover with a coy smirk, the haze in her crimson eyes clearing at the unexpected humor.

“It certainly ensnared me.” Velonara carefully omitted that her younger self had never filled out a form faster, the image of Sylvanas’s twin blades clashing against her sister’s in a series of sparks burnt in her impressionable mind. 

“I thought it was the uniform that captured your interest.”

“No, but you certainly modeled it nicely.”

They were bantering again and Velonara silently cursed herself, she was clearly slipping if Sylvanas was still coherently forming sentences. She pulled back and sank forward, nudging with her hips even after she’d already bottomed out and Sylvanas answered with a low growl.

“You wretch.” Velonara hissed, picking up her pace as she leaned closer to snarl in Sylvanas’s ear. “Distracting me like that.”

“I merely wished to draw out the moment-”

Velonara silenced her with a kiss, one that was all tongue and teeth, sloppy even, but she’d angled for overwhelming and achieved just that if the noise of surprise followed by pleasure was anything to go by. She was getting close now, Velonara could feel it and yet the words rushed out of her, Thalassian filth that would make even an orc blush, her strokes rough and unrelenting as her undead strength and stamina was put to the test.

But again she had to open her mouth.

“Why did you exile me here?” Her traitorous voice sounded so pathetic, weak and rough. 

Sylvanas made a small noise of confusion, and that should have been enough for her to stop. Belore damn her she was ruining this, she’d pursued for Sylvanas’s pleasure and yet now she was slipping, turning it into an interrogation. 

“Am I no longer fit to be by your side, Warchief?” Velonara still hadn’t relented with just how hard she was fucking Sylvanas, her anger and her hurt manifesting into brutal thrusts. Though never with any intent to hurt, at least not in the way her Queen equally enjoyed, but enough that it rendered Sylvanas speechless, incoherent, enough that Velonara could get her words out without Sylvanas’s honeyed tongue coming up with all sorts of excuses while she was more sound of mind. “You say the Unseen Path is an honor, yet all I’ve felt is punishment, bereft of your presence, of your guidance...your love.” Velonara felt wretched. What was she thinking? Whimpering like a pathetic cub, greedy and demanding of her lover’s attention- as though Sylvanas wasn’t already stretched paper thin amongst her subjects, giving more of herself than anyone deserved, least of all her. 

“I need to know.” She thrust in again, pushing for more depth even though it was impossible. Sylvanas stifled a wail, head kicking back, confused by the pleasure and uncomfortable accusation mixed in one. 

“Know what?”

“Why you ordered me from your side!” And then Velonara’s hand crept in between them, fingers flying over her clit and Sylvanas openly screamed into her shoulder.

“Because you were one fight away from getting yourself killed!” And with that pained declaration Sylvanas came, her body going stiff, tendons cording in her delicate neck, every muscle tensed as claws dug into Velonara’s back. Oh she would feel those scratches later, but Velonara didn’t care, every ounce of her attention was fixed on her lover, ears strained forward, eyes drinking in the resplendent sight as Sylvanas slumped against with a shuddering sigh, shivering through the aftershocks.

For a while Velonara held herself unnaturally still, eyes wide with horror as she cradled Sylvanas against her, cursing herself for every wretched moment of silence following the Warchiefs confession. Only when it became unbearable, did she finally speak. 

“I saw...” Sylvanas cursed, still struggling to form words, and tried again. “I saw it in you, before you even saw it in yourself, the lapse in concentration, the near misses to your otherwise flawless aim. And I _had_ you by my side, for every skirmish, every mission, meeting and decision you were there, my faithful right hand. But you were exhausted my love, and I’d bled you dry.” 

“Yet I cannot tire, I am…”

“Yes, you can.” Sylvanas’s eyes flared and her voice was final, belaying any argument Velonara had to make. “Yes, _we_ can.” The water was cooling now, and despite her undead body, Velonara resisted the sudden urge to shiver. Sylvanas cupped her jaw, her thumb soothing along the ragged edge of an ear and Velonara all but melted into the touch, closing her eyes and nuzzling into her palm. “That moment on the broken shore, the time that cursed felbat snatched you from my side and the way you _screamed.”_

“Please Sylvanas, you cannot keep going back to that, I was fine.” Velonara ground out. She hated that memory, of when she’d been too slow to roll out from under its claws before they’d viciously clamped around her upper arms, sending her careening to the ground below. She’d hated her wail of pure terror as she’d fallen, the ground rushing to greet her and the snap of bones that had taken the Apothecaries _weeks_ to put back together. She’d hated most of all that she’d not been there to protect her Queen when the Legion had flanked from behind. “I failed you, but I will _not_ do so again, please do not send me away like this, let me prove myself once more.” 

And then Sylvanas laughed, but it was not a humorous sound, more of a noise of exasperation and pain. “You think I sent you away because _you_ failed? No darling,” Sylvanas’s eyes dimmed as her ears lowered in misery. “I sent you here because _I_ failed _you._ This was supposed to be your respite, your time away to recover, because you were in pain Vel, not physically, but here…” Sylvanas gently tapped at her temple with a sad smile. “You needed this break for your sanity… and my own comfort, for if I ever lost you…” Sylvanas’s lips pulled back into an agonized grimace. “It would destroy me.” 

“And what about you?” Velonara lamented, her own ears pressed low and refusing to meet Sylvanas’s gaze, unable to process what those words truly meant, lest she’d break down all over again. “What about your own sanity, did you ever consider that?”

“Why do you think I’ve come here?” 

And it all suddenly made sense, dread seized in Velonara’s stomach.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She gasped, pulling Sylvanas’s limp form against her, cradling her head, littering her jaw, her forehead, her slightly askew eyebrow with desperate apologetic kisses. “I was a brute, I shouldn’t have forced that confession out of you like that. You were here to... _Belore,_ you were here to…”

“Shush, it was a much needed confession, one I didn’t know how much I needed to say until now, and one I think you needed to hear.” Sylvanas crooned against Velonara’s damp skin. “Besides, I have had interrogations far less pleasant than the way you oh so skillfully played me just now.” Sylvanas smiled against her cheek before kissing it. 

“I didn’t mean to take advantage like that.” Velonara’s hands tightened their grip, as though afraid Sylvanas would slip out of her grasp. “I ruined everything.”

“No, quite the opposite. I still thoroughly enjoyed myself.” Sylvanas chuckled, tucking a wet strand of hair behind a pinned ear, massaging them into a more relaxed position. “C’mon Vel, happy ears for me please?”

Velonara scowled and ducked away. “ _Anar'alah_ you sound like your mother.” 

Sylvanas chuckled good naturedly, “that was the plan.” 

The water rippled as Velonara shuffled closer, resting her forehead against Sylvanas as the mood sobered. “I really missed you, you know.” 

“I know.” There was a beat of silence before Velonara pulled away and splashed her with the woefully lukewarm water.

“Hey, you’re supposed to say it back!” 

“I know.” Sylvanas sagely repeated yet was powerless to stop the slow smile that had Velonara scoffing and lazily swatting her shoulder before the movement jostled where they were still connected, causing Sylvanas to let out a noise of discomfort that had Velonara murmuring her apologies all over again. The ranger captain took the time to steadily pull out, her fingers quick to soothe the stinging empty ache that the toy’s absence left. Sylvanas smiled, gently capturing her lover’s wrist, pressing her lips against her knuckles beseechingly. “Of course I missed you, my heart. I felt every second that you were away.”

“That water’s cold.” Velonara whispered, not trusting herself to speak, terrified that with those words Sylvanas would slip from the bath, redressing in her leathers to leave her alone once more.

“Then we shall retire to the bedroom, and dry ourselves off by the fire.”

“And you will lay with me for the night?” Velonara asked, struggling to contain the elation spreading across her face at the thought that perhaps she wouldn’t lose her lover to the Horde just yet.

“All night,” Sylvanas voice was final. “No mishap, missive or invasion will keep me from your quarters until morning, of that I can promise. Besides,” Sylvans tilted her head with a coy expression. “I believe it’s my turn now.”

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
